


The Joke Was On Me

by get_glitch3d



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: CHOCOLATE MILK SHOPPING GONE WRONG, Choking, Comic Book References, Eventual Sexual Content, F/M, Hair-pulling, I HAVE NOT SEEN SS FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF NOT CORRUPTING HOW I WRITE MY BOY, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Mutilation, NOT SUICIDE SQUAD JOKER, Possible Oral Sex, Princess Bride References, Reader Insert, Russian Roulette, Sexual Content, Shit, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, average build, brute squad, but im still gonna write this because HOT DAMN CAMERON MONAGHAN, depends on what you think of as average, his eyes are blueish green but i call them green, i regret it, i was like 'someone is gonna write for good ol' jerome might as well be me', i'll see it soon though, in a both sexual and non-sexual way, jerome has a thing for you, mister j. nickname established, otherwise it's gotham jerome not comic nor movie joker, shouldn't have gotten the taffy, so i wrote for him, suicide squad references, tags will be edited and deleted as this story goes on, that rhymed, tying up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:39:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4904173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/get_glitch3d/pseuds/get_glitch3d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All you wanted was some chocolate milk, not to be kidnapped by some kid with hair that looks like a carrot and his brute squad of criminals.</p><p>Oh, how you wish you would've gone to the mini-mart on Cardinal Avenue rather than the one on Second.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chocolate milk.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: IM SO FAR UP CAMERON MONAGHAN'S ASS IT'S RIDICULOUS (but if he were ian currently then mickey would be too, also, I knew who he was supposed to be the second I heard his laugh in season 1.)

Of all the places you chose to go, of all the places to buy _chocolate milk_ you had chosen the mini-mart on Second. Why had you chosen the mini-mart on Second? It was close, that's why. Closest to you. Closest to your apartment. It was _right there._

Being nineteen years old and having no other priors but having the mass craving for chocolate milk, you had gone out. Which is what put you in the oh so _odd_ spot you were in. You were holding a gallon of chocolate milk in one hand while you waited behind an old woman at the counter. Everytime you glanced behind you, some guy, not much older than you, if anything he was younger, was staring at you. 

You knew this because you used the mini-mart mirror on the wall. It was circular and used to keep an eye on all costumers at all times. And you were using it to keep yourself safe. You didn't know him, and if you had it still would've bugged you. But he was in the back looking at the small display of candy. Half of his body was showing on one side and the other half was blocked by the shelf. You swallowed as you waited for the woman before you to count out her pennies.

Home was five minutes away. _Five._ You just wanted to get your milk, run back home and lock yourself in to continue your marathon of shows. The guy with the bright red hair and bold green eyes had other plans, though. You began by tapping your foot, the condensation rolling off your gallon of milk before dripping onto the floor.

It was rhythmic, almost, as the buzzing from the coolers chimed in. Next, you clenched and unclenched your jaw. You moved your feet within your shoes, wiggling your toes as you taped the bottom of your shoe to the ground a bit faster. You felt a slight pang of relief as the old woman in front of you stopped counting pennies, but it was ripped away from you when she pulled out some nickels. Then you started to turn your head, looking everywhere, at everyone. Mostly at the flame haired boy watching you. He didn't seem to catch that you were watching him in a reverse sense, that was until he looked up to the mirror and you saw a sadistic smirk cross his features that caused your eyes to snap down and stare at the pink cardigan the woman was wearing. 

There were small balls of lint littering the back, and some hairs. Cat, you assumed. They were thin, and various colors as the light washed over them. Suddenly, the cashier let out an almost strangled groan, brushing it off as a cough to the older woman.

“Look, we'll just call it even, okay?” The female clerk said, taking all the change under the small ledge before pouring it into the slightly opened register. The old woman smiled as she slowly stepped out and you stepped up, swallowing harshly as you slammed your milk on the counter and the taffy that had found its way into your right hand. 

“That'll be $4.79.” She totalled, watching you. You dug around in your pockets, looking for extra change. You put three dollars and fifty cents on the counter, but realized you soon had no more. You were about to get her to take off the taffy when someone leaned against the counter beside you. You didn't even have to look as their voice flooded your ears.

“I'll take care of it.” The flame haired boy said, setting some money on the counter. 

“I'm fine, really, thank you – just take off the taffy.” You said, trying to avoid his mercilessly prying gaze. “Please.” You said in a hurried tone.

“I said I'd cover it.” He urged, moving his hand onto the counter as the clerk, Annie, stopped reaching for his money.

“And I said I'm fine, thank you, but I don't need the taffy.” And that's when you heard the door jingle. You barely had time to glance behind you before the first shot went off, by the second Annie, the clerk, had screamed, by the third, you had joined her. By the fourth, everyone else had, by the fifth, the boy beside you was laughing hysterically. Raspy, rough, sadistic. It made you nervous, uneasy, uncomfortable. It was disconcerting and _insane._

By the time one scream was silenced by the sixth gunshot, Annie was being dragged from behind the counter. Your chocolate milk lay forgotten on the counter as you scrambled to shield yourself beneath it. The low hanging, gray painted object was barely hanging over your head an extra foot, but you covered your head as another shot went off and chocolate milk sprayed everywhere. You began scrambling away, trying to crawl from the violence before someone slammed their foot on your ankle, causing you to let out a vicious scream and by the almighty powers of whatever being is out there, there was an equally vicious laugh to match it. 

You didn't have time to do anything but whimper as you were pulled up by the hair and pressed to someone's chest. You saw a flurry of messed up red hair in your peripheral vision and glanced down to see Annie corned by a large man, a bear of a man. 

“Please...” You whispered, your words going unnoticed as his arm stretched over your chest and his hand reached up to wrap loosely around your throat. His other hand was still tangled in your hair, pulling it slightly. 

“What's your name?” He whispered in your ear as you ankle was painfully aching. You didn't tell him your name so he kicked his foot out against your ankle, another scream erupting from your lips. “Name!?”

“(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N)!” You blurted out, tears suddenly streaming from your eyes. You wanted to sob, to take a deep breath and scream, but his hand was tighter around your throat as he pressed you against his chest. The bear of a man turned and looked you over as the red haired boy tilted his head against yours. He yanked your head back a bit, and you saw him sneering. 

“Mine.” He hissed, staring at the larger man who frowned slightly before turning back to Annie. He seemed to press you protectively to his front which was sending off alarms in your head, arms, legs, well, your whole damn body. “You're a pretty one, aren't ya?” He asked tauntingly, quickly removing his hand from your throat to move your hair back and away from your face before returning it to your flesh. Your heart was pounding against your ribcage, and the sound flooded your ears. 

His hand had grown tighter around your throat as you tried to breathe, but the deeper the breath you took, the tighter his grip got. Like a lioness' hold on a zebra, or a dog on an arm, or even a baby on a toy. He laughed darkly in your ear, keeping you as uncomfortably close to him as he could. It was stupid, what happened next. Stupid because it was exactly how it had always been described to you, losing consciousness that is.

Your vision was blurry, then black. You saw nothing, your ears were ringing and after a moment you felt your body go slightly limp and you assumed so did the red haired boy because you felt his grip on your throat falter. You were being dragged, too. And you heard muffled voices, like water was in your ears and you couldn't get it out.

That was the first time he choked you.


	2. night-night.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome has a little chat with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I update every week, just so you guys know! Also, I'm using a name reference, but it's still Jerome.

Your eyes felt sticky as you woke up, you were being jostled slightly, this you realized quickly. You were trying to blink, to get some light into your eyes but you didn't see light. It was still dark outside. You groaned, more inwardly than outwardly and opened your eyes fully. You neck hurt from where that little _prick_ had yanked your hair back but your ankle felt like it was on fire. 

“Whaaa?” You mumbled, unsure of your surroundings as you were knocked forward. Whatever you were in stopped moving and you licked your lips, swallowing softly as you looked around. Or, tired to. You realized there was a bag over your head. “Great.” You whispered, feeling a tug on your arm before you were all together yanked from where you were sitting. You fell to the ground and let out another almighty scream as you landed on your tied arms. Your screaming quited as you heard running and a slight scuffle before you were helped up.

“I told you to be careful, you putz!” The voice was familiar, vicious, it was probably that red headed kid. _Prick._ You thought to yourself. “From now on, don't touch her.”

As the image of him flooded your mind, you thought he looked familiar. But you didn't watch the news, considering you didn't have cable and it bugged you. You felt sick as his hands gripped your forearms, you felt sick because he was touching you. He was a criminal, no doubt, and if he wasn't before, he is now. 

_Kidnapping?_ Check. _Assault?_ Check. _Assault with a deadly weapon?_ Check. _Murder?_ Check, probably. _Rape?_ You shivered at this thought. No check, no check, _no check!_

You limped along, your arm throbbing and your ankle aching as you did, your head was hanging, too. You were sat down somewhere, but it was dark under your head sack so you couldn't tell. You could barely see through the weaved bag. Suddenly, the bag was ripped off your head and your eyes quickly drank in your surroundings. It was brightly lit and you had to squint to keep your eyes from practically melting from the heavy lighting. _Those movies had it wrong... Villain hang outs aren't dank, they're lit up like the Fourth of July._ You thought. 

“Hello, (Y/N).” The red haired boy greeted, pressing a hand to his chest. “Call me... Mister J.” He said, bowing before you, stretching his other arm out as he bowed, his head low before he snapped it up. A wicked grin was lacing his features and your stomach was churning. 

“Where am I?” You asked, staring at “Mister J.”

“The time for questions will come soon, but now is not that time.” He told you, dismissing you easily. 

“Look, man, I just wanted some chocolate milk and taffy, not this.” You said quickly, your hands still bound as you sat in the chair. The severity of the situation hadn't quite registered yet. Mister J. presented a knife to you, and you watched him toy with it a little bit. He then began dragging it up your arm, over your shoulder, across your neck before gently resting it in the crook of your jaw where your jaw and neck meet. 

The blade tickled your skin, and it was sharp, you could feel that. You counted the seconds, waiting for him to kill you as he walked behind you. Much to your surprise, he cut loose your ties. You were going to make a break for it, hurt ankle or not, when he slammed his hands onto your shoulders, holding you in place. 

“Why did you choose that store?” He asked, long, pale hands still on your shoulders. “Hmm?” He prodded, leaning down to have his head near yours. 

“Convenience.” You whispered.

“Louder!” He ordered.

“Convenience!” You said louder, but apparently, not loud enough. 

“You've got some lungs on ya, so _scream it!_ ” Mister J. hissed next to your ear.

“Convenience!” You shouted, anger flooding your voice. 

Mister J. let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Should've gone somewhere else.”

“No kidding.” You muttered, looking at your lap. You felt one of your arms move from behind your back before he put it on the arm of the chair, tying it down. He did the same with the other side, making knots before tying bows. He was humming as he did it, like it was any regular thing. You felt something looping around your legs. It was rope, probably, to secure you to your seat. You didn't want to look down in case he grabbed your hair like he had at the mini-mart. You didn't want to hurt your neck. He had a nasty grip.

He was still behind you, though. That made you horribly uneasy, you couldn't see him, not exactly. But you could hear him. You could _feel_ him, considering his hands moved to your biceps, tracing his finger over them. His hands moved down your arms, slowly too. Gently smoothing over them as he reached your hands and laid his above yours. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You shook your head. He rested his chin atop your head, keeping it still. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“No, I don't have a, uh, boyfriend.” You said truthfully.

“What about a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“No, what?” Mister J. asked.

“No, sir?” You corrected, but he sighed above you. “No, Mister J.” You immediately said, realizing what he wanted. 

He squeezed his hands over yours before patting them, stepping away from you. He walked around you, to stand in front of you. You sighed quietly with relief, but let out a scream when he smacked his hands back on yours and leaned down, getting up close. You turned your head to avoid him, and he pressed his forehead to your temple. His lips grazing your cheek as you tried inching further away from him. 

“Mister J. sounds too informal.” He whispered to you, and you wanted to cry out as you felt his hot breath against your skin. “Jerome, is my name.” Mister J. informed, leaning back from you. “And laughter is my game!” Soon following this statement, his vicious, sadistic laugh cut through the air. 

“What's more contagious than laughter?” Jerome asked you, leaning back down. 

“Nothing.” You told him, hoping that was the right answer.

“That's right, (Y/N)! There's nothing more contagious than laughter!” Jerome grinned, watching you. Hearing your name pass his lips made your stomach twist more. You only told him what it was because he was holding you captive when he demanded it from you. 

He skipped, sort of, to stand behind you. His hand went around your throat, and you felt yourself weaken just from his hand resting against your skin. 

“Any words before you go night-night?” Jerome asked teasingly, his voice high pitched and expectant.

“No.” You whispered. “I don't have anything to say.” 

His hand squeezed. Your throat closed. Your vision became blurry as your eyes rolled back. You gagged loudly and you felt his hand release shortly after. As your mind swam in the darkness covering your eyes, you wondered something. _How many times can he choke me before he kills me?_

That was the second time he choked you.


	3. hurt ya.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome gets a little dicey -- well, more than he already is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh, if only you knew the gateway this chapter opens up. I hope you noticed I changed the tags. Mutilation. Torture. That's what's to come because Jerome is not a nice guy. I'm writing this about who he IS not who people WANT him to be. Also, in this chapter there are descriptions of scaring someone with a flame and use of a switch blade against the skin, but no blood is drawn and no burns are made.

You had kept your eyes open for as long as you could, but eventually, you gave into the tired haze you were in. Sleep's hand rested on your shoulder before it's spell washed over you like a wave, and you passed out. You didn't know how many hours you'd bee awake. Watching, waiting for Jerome or any of his little team members to pop up and kill you.

You had a feeling, though, that Jerome wouldn't grant you such a luxury. You didn't know why you were treating this as a total life-or-death hostage situation. There was a chance you'd make it out alive, right? _Right?_ You pondered the thought as you opened your eyes upon hearing footsteps.

“Hiya, gorgeous!” You heard Jerome's voice fill your ears. Much to your surprise, the lights were out. This would have been comforting if you were at home, but you weren't. You were in a lair, of sorts, with a group of criminals and one of them was in the room with you and he apparently liked knives.

You glanced down at your forearms, when you had been struggling to keep your eyes open earlier, he'd come along and started chatting. He used his switchblade to make little tears in the sleeves of your striped shirt, threatening to slice your skin. Of course, he hadn't. He had pressed the sharp silver against your skin, he even inched it along, creating a line in it's path. But not of blood, no, it was a color just a bit brighter than your skin tone to show where the blade had sunk down and where the skin had been released from it's threatening hold.

You looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. You only heard the slight drip of water and the sound of muffled music from far away. That gave you a bit of hope, that meant someone was sort of close by. 

“Where are you?” You questioned, hearing a slight laugh move through the darkness, not as vicious or threatening as before. 

“Near,” He began, somewhere close to you which made you jump. There was a pause, slight movement before he continued from farther away. “Far.” Jerome stated, you assumed he jumped because there was a rustle of clothes then the smack of feet hitting the floor. “Wherever you are!” He sang, footsteps rushing toward you.

He grabbed the chair you were in, this you caught onto easily. He yanked it to one side, and then the other. “I believe that the heart does go on!” 

_He sings well._ You thought, you wanted to smack yourself. _He has a good voice._ Everything was quiet once more.

“Where are you!?” You shouted. Suddenly, he was in front of you, a lit flame between you and him. It illuminated the dark smile on his pale features, and the heat and glow of the flame was fanning against your own face.

“Right here.” He sneered, bringing the lighter closer to your face as you leaned away from it. “Aw, what's wrong? Can't take the heat?” Jerome questioned, watching you strain your neck to lean away from him. He shut the lighter and his steps were much louder now, but they were retreating. You heard a loud click and a gentle buzzing sound before the lights came on, bright and harsh but entirely welcomed by you.

“Why am I here?” You asked him, watching him stand by the large light switch. He sighed, shrugging slightly.

“Cause you're pretty.” 

“Do you just kidnap pretty girls a lot, then?” You hissed, watching him still. 

Jerome tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. He seemed to be looking you over, assessing you almost. “No, 'cause there aren't many pretty ones quite like you, here in Gotham.”

“Well, I'm flattered.” You grumbled, rolling your eyes.

He made a slight 'tsk' sound, like he was disappointed. “Y'know, I'm your ticket out of here, so I'd cut it out with the little snide remarks, if I were you.”

“If you were me, you'd probably be sane!”

“Wrong!” Jerome snapped harshly, rushing over to you. He slammed his hands on top of yours and stared down at you. “Everyone's a little insane. But the best people are the ones who are the most gone.”

“Gone?” You asked.

“Yes, gone. Y'know,” He paused, twirling his hand slightly, searching his mind for the word. “Crazy.” Jerome said pointedly. 

“I bet you know this from experience.” You said, moving your head to the side as he stared down at you.

“Oh, yes.” Jerome grinned mischievously, looking into your (Y/E/C) eyes. “And I've had plenty, experience, that is. You should get some, too. Become more enlightened on the subject, it's a shame you're not. Because then we could play pretend, you could be Alice and I'd be the Mad Hatter.”

The mocking etch of a slight smile fell off your face as you swallowed, watching him. 

“We'll just have to put you through a little trauma to get there first.” Jerome explained, his voice changing pitches as he did. From high to low, and back again. “That won't be too difficult.”

You stared at him, eyes wide as his hands crushed down on yours.

“I promise.” He swore, his smile widening. “But I won't kill you, don't worry. I'm just gonna hurt ya.” He glanced over his shoulder to see a blonde woman wheeling a silver cart into the room. “Really, really,” Jerome's gaze turned back to you as he finished his sentence. “Bad.”

Good things and bad things seem to line up. _Fuck, dude, seriously I just wanted some chocolate milk._ You screamed in your head, scared out of your mind. And you had every right to be.


	4. property.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome creates a masterpiece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is graphic, to an extent. It involves Jerome making a "masterpiece" in your skin. I apologize for any mistakes.

Scream, that's all you wanted to do. But you couldn't, your throat was hoarse from having done the task over and over again, but Jerome wasn't letting up. 

“Please.” You whispered, your head pressing down against the surface you were on, just as you felt another sharp stab of pain. 

“Please, what?” Jerome asked, leaning over you from behind as his hands froze. 

You wanted to shrug, but that would be too painful. “Please, stop.” You heard Jerome hum, like he was thinking about it. 

“Nah.” He replied, continuing his work. “Besides,” Jerome said, making another cut. “I'm almost done with my masterpiece.” 

Your eyes had been leaking tears for hours, you body shook from the pain and you knew you wouldn't be able to properly lean back against the chair you'd taken up residence in. Robert Greenwood, you'd learned his name after Jerome shouted at him, the bear of a man stood watching nearby. 

Jerome had removed you from your chair, which made you panic the moment he had. But he had to untie you arms and legs to do it, and you'd been fighting him the entire time he held you against him. You were kicking, swatting, slapping, screaming, attempting to bite, but nothing worked. Even as he set you on a gurney, you fought him. The one that looked to be swiped fresh from the hospital, considering they had to remove bloody sheets from it.

Little did you know, th new sheets they laid down would be stained once more. 

Jerome continued with his work, sighing as you shook. 

“Hold still!” He snapped, his fingers bloody. You didn't reply, only cried and pressed your face into the only now unstained part of the mattress-like item. Your arms were tied to the bars of the gurney, and your legs were tied together to keep you secured. You weren't going anywhere. You saw Jerome's hand come up as he stepped forward, motioning for someone to bring something over. He leaned down as they did, smoothing your messy hair backwards, accidentally smudging some of your own blood from his fingers onto your temple.

He kissed the spot, licking the blood from your temple.

“Don't worry, gorgeous. It'll heal and everyone will know just who you belong to.” 

You didn't want that, you wanted to die. Apparently, as you'd overheard from Greenwood, they weren't supposed to take any hostages. But Jerome grabbed you, and Greenwood grabbed Annie, the clerk from the mini-mart. You wondered where she was as Jerome's fingers danced across your skin, when his lips brushed your shoulder, when his hair tickled your neck. 

You wondered if she'd been in the same position as you, if she was still in it, or she as going to be. You wondered if she was in another room, or in the same one as you, just not visible. You weren't looking hard enough, maybe. You swore you saw something move under a sheet far away. You couldn't even tell how big the room is, so you couldn't say whether it was you imagination or not.

Jerome then pressed another kiss to your temple and stood straight. 

A mirror was placed a few feet from you, and you saw him smiling into it before going back to working on your back. You looked at yourself. You looked like shit, it had been a couple of days, more like a few, actually. Nearly a week. 

_Is anybody looking for me? Does anyone even know I'm gone? My landlord has to, yesterday was rent day._ You were concerned about rent day, and another person even as you were being tortured. 

“Annnd-” Jerome dragged out the word as he set down the knife on the cart, his bloody hands nearly losing the knife as he did. There were other blood covered instruments on the cart, you knew that. He brought his hands up in a victory pose before clasping them together, smiling wide. “Done!” 

You cried at the slight relief, waiting for the next thing he had planned. Your binds were undone and Jerome carefully, despite what he had done, helped you into a sitting position.

“Close your eyes.” He ordered, and you did. He cleared his throat as he moved you a bit more, making sure you'd have a view of your back from where you sat. You felt the back of your shirt, which he had cut, gently graze your ribs as well as the material from the tank top you had on. Your bra was dangling too, you remembered his fingers grazing your spine to release the clasp and it made you shudder uncomfortably. Jerome had removed it to make sure your back, or his “canvas” as he called it, was free of interferences. 

“Now, for the big reveal. What's behind door number two? Open your eyes and find out!” Jerome said with excitement flooding his voice. You did and turned your head over your shoulder, staring at the bloody words on your back. “Do ya like it?”

You wanted to tell him “no”, but you just stared. Jerome cleaned up some of the blood as you looked at it, making the words a bit clearer. Across your shoulders and down your entire back were four words.

“Property of Jerome Valeska.” You read out loud, your voice shaky as more tears threatened to spill. You had a feeling they wouldn't, because you had a headache already from the pain _and_ the crying. Greenwood said something, but it fell over deaf ears, considering you weren't listening. The words had you in a trance. 

Things had been going well, for a hostage situation, you assumed. He only joked around with you but then it escalated to this violent behavior and these actions – and this _shit_. Jerome left to talk to someone, and Greenwood's eyes were looking you over.

“Jerome's right, you are pretty.” He advanced towards you. “Got an awfully pretty mouth, too.” Greenwood's hand extended as he reached you, grasping your jaw roughly, but just as he did, Jerome came back. 

“Hey!” He shouted, and Greenwood backed off. “Get out.” Jerome seethed, pointing to what appeared to be a door. Your hazy mind couldn't tell. “A little birdie told me to clean up your wounds so they heal nice and pretty, just like you.” He stated, poking a sensitive patch of skin.

You winced, flinching away from him which only caused more pain for you. You soon found Jerome with his hands around your neck.

“You look pretty like this.” He told you as lay there, waiting for him to squeeze. You weren't even tied up, you could've fought him, maybe if you hadn't been weak from the pain.

“Please, I'll pass out from the pain...” You told him, only able to bring one hand up to rest around his right wrist. He looked you dead in the eyes and smirked maliciously.

“Beauty is pain, gorgeous.” Jerome told you with slight shrug, his hands squeezing tightly. You went limp before you heard anything else he had to say. Then you felt a tingle and the slight brush of something against your back. It felt like when your mother used to clean and scrapes you got when you were younger, the ones you earned from falling down after running so fast and far ahead of the boys and girls in your neighborhood, racing them. 

_Mom._ You thought. Your mother's face became apparent in your mind and you relaxed slightly. Oh, what you wouldn't do to be in her arms right now. _That was the third time he choked you._


	5. se ya, gorgeous.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is pushing you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting lazy with updates, sorry! I just finally figured out how to end one of my stories on another site. It's relaxing me and making me forget about my other stuff.

It had been a week since Jerome decided to mutilate you. He'd call out to you at night, saying goodnight in strange tone. It was always at midnight, even though midnight was the beginning of the next day. The tone was weird coming from him. It was flirty, you recognized it immediately. It made you uncomfortable, but what was worse was the itching coming from your back.

They'd gotten you a change of clothes, seeing as how Jerome cut your shirt-items off. A woman with blond hair, the one from before, had come in and given you a new shirt and tank top. 

“Gotham” was splattered across the front of the t-shirt. It looked like something from your old highschool, in fact, it was from there. 

“Tabitha hit a thrift-shop just for you.” You didn't know who Tabitha was, but if she was hanging out with these people you could only imagine what she'd done to the thrift-shop. “This style is a bit tacky, if I do say so myself... Splatter paint wording? Yuck.” Barbara mumbled as she pulled the tank-top over your head, her hand brushing your chest and you leaned from her, avoiding her lustful gaze. 

She spoke again. “Y'know, Greenwood got a toy and so did Jerome, why don't I?” Barbara questioned, pouting as she watched you, tugging the shirt over your head. “Maybe Jerome would be up for sharing.”

“N...o.” You weakly mumbled, the word was difficult to say. “No.” You repeated more clearly. Barbara giggled, bringing a hand up to gently 'boop' your nose.

“Aw, so sweet!” She grinned widely. “You think you have a say in what happens to you... Jerome picked a good one... I'd love to just eat...” She leaned closer to you, breathing on your lips. “You...” She continued, her lips coming forward to press against yours. Her tongue flicked out and dabbed at your lip just before her teeth pulled on it. Barbara released it as the door creaked open. “Up.” She finished, leaning away from you. She had smeared some of her strawberry lip-gloss onto your lips. 

"How are things today, ladies?” You heard Jerome and began curling your legs up to your chest. Barbara glanced over her shoulder and replied.

“Good... She's a bit shy.”

“Not around me.” Jerome said thickly, skipping over to you. He stood beside Barbara, leaning down to put his hands on his knees. “Isn't that right?” 

You didn't reply, you just swallowed as Jerome brought a hand up to grip your chin and pull your head forward. His lips pressed to yours and he pulled back, furrowing his eyebrows. He released his grip on your face as Barbara looked away, bringing a hand up to wipe her lips. Or, she attempted to because Jerome stood straight, reached out and grabbed Barbara's arm, turning her around quickly. He'd obviously touched the lip gloss.

“What'd you do?” He hissed, his voice dangerously low. You watched the two stare at each other, a mere foot from you. “Tell me!” He shouted.

“Just kissed her.” Barbara mumbled, watching Jerome. “That's all.” She shrugged. Jerome pushed her arm back as he let it go. 

“Don't do it again.” Jerome ordered, causing Barbara to roll her eyes. 

“You can't stop me.”

 

“I'm the boss!” Jerome shouted again, his voice angry. This caused you to jump, but oddly enough, a smirk was forming on your face. Barbara rolled her eyes again, scoffed and left the room. “Did I scare you?” Jerome muttered, bending down to look at you. You'd fought the smirk off your face before he looked back down. “Honest answer, princess.”

“A little bit.” You whispered. He pressed a hand to his chest, his face sincere as was his voice.

“Sorry.” Jerome apologized. You nodded slightly in acceptance. “You thirsty?” He asked. 

You nodded again and Jerome scampered off before coming back with a glass of something thick. You nearly gasped when you realized what it was. He was holding _chocolate milk._

“Here.” He grinned, bringing the glass to your lips. He urged you to take a sip. You parted your lips and allowed the milk to flow into your mouth. It was ironic, honestly. “There you go.” Jerome whispered as he pulled the glass away. A bit dribbled onto your lip as you swallowed the chocolate liquid. Jerome made a face and leaned forward, kissing you as his tongue flicked out from his mouth to remove the chocolate milk from your lips. 

You were too weak to be disgusted now. They'd been giving you granola bars, rice krispies and chocolate and all this other stuff that seemed like a child had bought it. To your dismay, whenever you had to use the bathroom, Barbara would take you. That was the only time you were allowed to have your hands untied. 

You watched Jerome take a sip of the drink and smile, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. It was another damn granola bar. You sank down where you sat, your knees against your chest as you moved your hands slightly. He had stopped tying your legs a couple days ago. He told you it was so you could move them, make sure they didn't lose circulation... Or whatever.

“Open.” Jerome urged as he peeled back the wrapper of the granola bar with one hand. You watched his long fingers work around the foil wrap, exposing the oats, rice, chocolate and whatever the hell else they put in them. You took a bite of the bar as he gave it to you, allowing you to chew, swallow and look back up at him before he gave you more. “So, how has your stay been?”

 _Shitty, thanks._ You thought. Instead, you shrugged. That only made you wince as the wounds on your back protested with the movement. Jerome sighed and shook his head.

“Should've been good.” He mumbled and you frowned. "Your stay should be nice." He backed away from you after you finished the bar, shaking his head as he did. “I didn't want to hurt you, but people have to know who you belong to.” 

You watched him. He looked hurt, to say the least. You wondered if there were cameras in the room. You wondered if there weren't. Maybe that's why he released sad emotions in here, because no one would know. Maybe that's why he came in last night, eyes red as his shoulders slumped. He seemed upset when it happened. He wouldn't talk to you, he just came in, inspected your back, let a tear slip down his face, kiss your head then he left. 

“Milk.” You said limply, getting his attention as he still held the glass. This caused him to smile and he walked back to you, carefully allowing you to drink the milk.

So, that's what you did. You sat and drank milk. You watched Jerome as you drank. He looked happy, honestly. You smiled around the rim of the glass as you finished off the milk. He pulled the glass from your lips. You closed your eyes and awaited a hand around your neck, one to put you to sleep, but one didn't come.

A pale hand did not settle at the base of your neck. It's partner did not rest at the middle of your neck, fingers brushing skin oh so gently before squeezing, gripping, grasping each breath before tearing it from you. Instead, Jerome kissed your forehead and left. 

He left.

You opened your eyes and noticed that he had a bounce in his step. Something playful. Something human.

Something you only wished he didn't have. 

Something to make him innocent. Sweet. Young. Happy. Something you wanted to cut out and stab til it died. Something that made your heart warm slightly. Then he turned slightly as he reached the door, opening it and using his feet to keep himself grounded as he leaned back.

“See ya, gorgeous!” He waved, sending you a white smile. Something that made your heart flutter. You smiled back instinctively, the action not able to be stopped. This made him chuckle before he pulled himself up and flung himself through the door. The heavy metal door shut behind him. 

Jerome made himself appear wonderful even when he could be vicious, horrible and terrifying. Something in the back of your mind loved it. Something that was slowly inching forward, pushing past every alarm, warning and instinct. 

It made you want to _scream._

But you couldn't, so you just stared at the door.


	6. a couple more.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the airplane!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm a little late with updating. I'm a lot late with updating my other stories, but I was at my cousin's wedding and stayed a bit longer than anticipated. My mom was with me 24/7 as was my sister, so I couldn't update. Hope you enjoy!

You woke up next, except you weren't down in the grimy, dank lair. _Down? Is that right?_ You thought. _Was it a basement? A cellar... It had to have been._ You were sat at a dinner table, or breakfast, depending on the time of day. You brought your head up to see the criminals eating dinner all around you, like it was normal. You had a plate in front of yourself, but you noticed a new man.

“Who the hell are you?” You snapped, staring at the man with the slick backed black hair. You had been a tad more aggressive since something in your mind began darting forward, something _attracted_ to Jerome. The man before you was wearing a suit. He brought his head up to look at you, and you saw Jerome look at you, too, as did that bear looking guy and the skinny short guy. 

“Theo Galavan.” He said easily, setting his knife and fork beside his plate. “And you are?”

“(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N).” Jerome said for you, resting his elbow on the table as he propped his chin up on his closed fist, staring at you like you were a dream come true, wide smile and glittering eyes. It made you sick, but at the same time you were fighting a smile. Theo shot Jerome a dirty look.

“I asked her.” He said, pointing to you. Jerome's smile turned into a scowl, and he pulled his arm off the table, starting to eat again. 

You repeated what Jerome had said. “(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Beautiful.” 

You saw Jerome do something with his shoulders, they tensed slightly as did the rest of his hunched over form. His dropped head tilted upwards, and his face turned to send a vicious look at Theo even if he couldn't see it. 

“Why am I here?”

“Originally, you were here because Jerome began calling the shots. But now you're here for leverage.” Theo breathed, putting a chunk of steak into his mouth. “Aren't you going to eat?” He questioned, glancing at your plate before returning his gaze. You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your wrists before you looked down at your lap. They were ziptied in front of you, but free to an extent. 

“I guess.” You muttered, staring at the steak in front of you. You easily took hold of your fork, but your knife was a different story. You flipped it on accident, having it almost stab your leg but Jerome was quick to reach out and grab it, but not by the handle. He didn't even hiss in pain, he just dropped it beside your plate and got an odd look from Theo as his hand bled. 

You wanted to bandage the wound on his hand from grabbing your knife, but at the same time you wanted to infect it six ways to Sunday to kill him. “You didn't need to do that.” You told him as he wiped his bleeding hand on his pant leg. He looked at you with a slight smirk-like snarl on his face, his lips curling up. 

“Didn't want you to get hurt, now did I, gorgeous?” He asked, tilting his head slightly as he reached his bleeding hand out to touch your cheek. Much to your dismay (or happiness), a little blood dripped on your face. It was on your cheek and dripped towards your mouth. You flinched as he touched you, but then he took his hand away from your face. He leaned over the table and grabbed your knife, cutting your steak for you. The cuts were in small strips, easy enough to stab with your fork, put them in your mouth and chew. 

But then Jerome reached out again and rested his cut hand against your jawline, using his thumb to wipe his blood from the side of your lips. He then brought his thumb to your lips, offering it to you but when you didn't comply he shrugged and sucked the blood off his finger.

Theo made him wrap a cloth napkin around his hand so he wouldn't drip blood everywhere. You didn't know why Theo even gave you a knife, you could use it against him, all of them. Of course, you couldn't take four guys, two women – even if they likely were all insane, they were still criminals. 

Plus,Greenwood and Barbara freaked you out. Honestly, more than Jerome did. Greenwood and Barbara both kept sending you weird looks, making gestures to you. You zoned out for a second, or you thought it was a second. It quickly turned into minutes, and you didn't notice people get up and leave the table. 

“Theo says you can't leave the table until you eat.” Jerome's voice filled your ears, making you snap your head in his direction, angry eyes staring him down. He looked innocent, oddly enough. Lips slightly pursed, head tilted, hands folded around his knees as they were pressed to his chest where he sat. “He said I've gotta watch you.”

“What, is he, like, your boss or something?”

“No.” Jerome replied, and you immediately realized you made a mistake. But it excited you nonetheless. “I'm the boss!” He shouted, watching you. You don't know why it was exciting to hear, but the way he shouted it, the way he leaned forward, the way his eyes lit up and the way his voice got deeper – it was attractive. 

He then held up his fingers in a “give me a minute” sort of way, and clambered from his chair, running towards what you assumed was the kitchen. He came back with a glass of something brown. You frowned when you realized what it was. It seemed to be a recurring theme. 

“Chocolate milk for the special guest!” He grinned, setting it before. “Remember the other glass of milk? I got another gallon this morning cause one of the knuckleheads around here finished it off!” He said pointedly, jerking his head back to motion to another door. “I got it this morning, had to kill a couple people but that's fine. The GCPD is already out for my head, what's a couple more dead bodies on the line gonna do?” Jerome then let out a laugh. Raspy, wheeze-like. 

“You're nuts.” You told him.

“Oh, yes. Entirely bonkers! Or am I?” He giggled, watching you sink in your chair. “But trust me, I'm better this way. All the best people are crazy, don't ya know?” 

“No, I don't.” You said with a quiet voice, staring at him. He shrugged, sighing disappointedly.

“That's sad.” Jerome tilted his head again before dragging his chair to stand beside yours. He flopped down and took your fork from your hand, stabbing a piece of steak on the plate, turning to you and holding it to your lips. “Open up.”

You stared at him. The look in his eyes told him you should, so you did. He smiled happily and pushed the piece of steak into your mouth, you slipped it off the fork with your tongue. He did this again, this time twirling it and making motor noises.

“Here comes the airplane!” And you actually _giggled_ before opening your mouth. You did this for another five pieces. The steak tasted good, but then Jerome eased off the steak, giving you the potatoes and carrots beside it before you reached out and grabbed the milk glass. You didn't like the grin on his face as you took a sip, like he'd done you a favor. 

When your food was finished, Jerome called out that you were done and you stood with his help. Theo came out and spoke.

“Barbara, get her ready.”

“What?” You asked, looking at Theo. You didn't have time to register anything as Jerome leaned down, pulled you over his shoulder and began walking you somewhere, the blonde woman from the corner following closely. “Let me down!” You shouted, slamming your bound hands against his back.

Jerome spun himself around, thus spinning you as he hummed a tune loudly, moving easily with you on his shoulder as you soon became dizzy. You assumed the purpose was to silence you, either that or it was part of his routine, but either way, you were quiet. 

At least he didn't choke you, but you hadn't seen your own reflection in a little while, you imagined you had a few bruises. He spinned again, almost knocking you into the door frame as Barbara walked ahead of him, opening a dark door. You couldn't see what was inside as you tilted your head down, trying to focus on whether your ankles were tied or not, you didn't know.

Had you circulation been cut off, is that why you couldn't tell? No. Jerome wouldn't let that happen. Oddly enough, you _knew_ Jerome wouldn't let that happen. Like he was protecting you, it made you want to throw up or thank him. But you kept it in, awaiting whatever fate was in the room.


	7. tailor.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tailor works on your dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been sick for about a week now, and it's total hell. Please forgive my late update to this story and to other ones (if any of you read them). It isn't intentional. I hope you enjoy! (Also, do any of you already have snow where you live? I do. It sucks.)

You were standing on a platform as a tailor measured some fabric. You knew you'd be standing there for a while, you already had been. The tailor didn't ask about the scarring letters on your back, nor the bruises on your neck. When you caught sight of them, however, you gasped. 

The bruises were like a necklace, almost. There were two sets of the angry, fading purple marks. Some of them were green looking, and a few were halfway gone. 

“You like 'em?” Jerome asked, flopping in a chair nearby as he did. He had been pacing the room, watching intently as the tailor worked. Cockily, he grinned. “I made 'em myself.”

You flashed him a smile, the edges of your chapped lips curling up. The tailor pricked you on accident which caused you to yelp and an agitated look washed over Jerome.

“Don't do that again.”

“Apologies, sir.” The tailor mumbled. You didn't know he was British. “My dear, please turn.” He asked, looking up at you from where he knelt by your legs on the ground. He was working on the inner-hem, or whatever he said. He had the edge of the dress turned upwards slightly as he worked.

You did as told, and faced away from the mirror, turning your body so your back was towards the reflective device and your front was to Jerome. You were barely, and loosely, covered by the black fabric the tailor was working quickly to sew. 

You glanced over your shoulder at the scarring words. The words which were nearly completely healed. They were a lighter shade of your skin tone, something that caused them to look highlighted but shadowed by your natural skin color. 

“How long is this gonna take?” Jerome questioned impatiently. “I wanna see her in the dress.”

“Well, based on the design Mr. Galavan gave me, it's quite the dress... Long and thin, to be accompanied by a scarf, or shawl, around her shoulders -”

“Would it cover the words?” Jerome cut in. The tailor glanced at him from the dress and stood, walking around the platform to look at the words more closely. He stepped away from it and pulled an already cut piece of fabric from the makeshift workbench. It was similar to the size of an evening scarf. He walked back to you and draped it over your shoulders. 

“Despite the design, it likely will... Mr. Galavan asked for a removable clasp portion to be put on, though.” 

“Ooh.” Jerome grinned again. “I like the sound of that.” He paused. “What is it?”

You were curious as well.

“Well, it means that a piece of fabric, much like a wrap or an extension of the dress will be added to the entire back portion, but, the design calls for an open back dress. The removable clasp portion is to cover the entirety of it, but as the name states, it can be removed and will uncover her entire back.”

Your eyes met Jerome's dark ones. “Good... You like the sound of that, gorgeous?”

You nodded. That _thing_ that was pushing forward. The feeling, it was getting further ahead and you were having a hard time stopping it. 

“May I ask what this is for? Mr. Galavan said any details about the dress I could run through you, and, well, it seems to be a very lovely dress for a very extravagant occasion.”

“Some gala.” Jerome waved off, his hand moving lazily as he bounced one leg and moved it to rest its ankle against his opposite leg's knee. “Don't know too many deets, just yet.”

You sighed from where you stood. “Is it too much?”

“Nah.” Jerome shook his head. “Gorgeous dress for a gorgeous girl, when it's done, that is.” The tailor had stopped briefly. Jerome reached into the robe he was wearing and licked his lips, pulling out a metal object. “So, get to it.” Jerome urged, pointing the object at the tailor. 

You realized it was a gun and stood a bit straighter, the tailor darted back to work with a yelp which caused a wicked laugh to erupt from Jerome. The threat of a gun wasn't much to you, not now, anyway.

You glanced to see Barbara eying you in the corner, something which made you nervous. Everytime you looked at her, even out of the corner of your eye, she caught it. She'd smirk, trying to mimic Jerome, and send you a flirtatious wave. She'd even do that chomp sort of thing. It was where she'd open her mouth, chomp her teeth down, but in an aggressively flirtatious way, and would create a small clicking noise as her teeth smacked off of each other. 

You stood there for a little while longer, eventually nearly falling asleep where you stood before Theo Galavan stepped inside to check on the progress.

“Jerome, put the gun away, you're scaring the poor man!”

Jerome looked annoyed but laughed regardless. “Kinda the point, Theo.” 

“How are you doing?” Theo asked you, watching you stare at him with sleepy eyes. 

“Tired.” You mumbled. At this, Theo waved off the tailor who gladly took three large steps back. Theo waved Jerome up, who stood quickly after putting away his gun, and extended a hand to you. 

“She's tired, get her to bed.” Theo said simply as Jerome helped you off the two-foot platform. In your tired state, it felt more like six feet. When Theo, the tailor and Jerome had left, Barbara helped you get changed. But she kept sending you looks, her fingers trailing up your limbs... she walked around you and kissed the back of your head as you buttoned your (Galavan assigned) sleep shirt. 

“Jerome!” You called, uncomfortable with the attention Barbara was giving you. She pouted and stepped back, her hands dropping from your body as Jerome pushed open the door. His gleeful steps stopped short in front of you. 

“How's it, gorgeous?”

“I'm ready to go to bed.” You told him, and he grasped your hand, walking you out of the room. You glanced back at Barbara to see the pout turn into a scowl. “Thanks.” You whispered to him as he led you down the short hallway. The place you were in was spacious, but it also seemed to just be a regular apartment. You went to open the door he unlocked, the one with the giant padlock, but he swatted your hand.

“I'm a gentleman, let me open it.”

This made you smile and you waited for him to do so. When you stepped inside, after he turned on the light, and he saw you were all settled in, he stepped out of the room. His back was facing yours, his shoulders slightly slumped as he walked, his head hanging low.

He was about to flick off the light when you spoke.

“Why do I need a dress for a gala?”

Jerome turned around, his arms resting at his sides. A viciously joyful and flirtatious smirk appeared on his face. “You're my date.” He backed out of the room, his hand coming up to rest on the light as you waved to him, smiling at what he said. “Nighty night, doll.”

“Nighty night, Jerome.” 

The light went off and the door closed. You heard the padlock latch and footsteps retreating down the hall. The bright red flannel pajamas you were wearing were cozy, nice and warm, too. They reminded you of Jerome's hair. Maybe he picked them. You thought Theo did, but it would make more sense that Jerome did... considering you're his pet.

The thought made you giggle inside the dark room, but a frown occupied your face shortly after. You turned onto your side and stared at the dark walls. “Is someone looking for me?” You asked quietly.

Somehow, _'no'_ was the only answer you could think of. And, someway, you were... sort of okay with it.


	8. divider.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep is gracious enough to allow you to slip from your nightmare life to a dream land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I haven't updated in a little bit, but whatever. Here's this chapter. You connect with Frederick, Jerome's fingers connect with you. (Sexual stuff warning, not too much, though. That's coming [ba-dum-tis] soon.) Yada-yada, have fun with this.
> 
> I listened to Poison by Groove Coverage while writing this, FYI. It's a good song for the boss. (Jerome, duh.)

Sleep, that's what you wanted to do. But more sewing needed to be done. So, you ate a steak, you drank some chocolate milk and you stood on the raised platform as the tailor sewed. 

“How much longer?” You whined, something which had been happening more often. Something which Jerome was letting slide. He mumbled about it sometimes, but never loud enough for you to hear. “My feet hurt.”

“Yeah, how much longer?” Jerome joined in, hanging off a chair like he previously had been. The tailor sighed and gently smoothed out the fabric on your side. “Watch your hands there, pal!” Jerome snapped. 

“I wasn't-”

“She's mine.” He growled. It was difficult to say you weren't pleased to hear this, considering that thing that had been pushing forward in your mind was almost to the front. “Now, how long?”

“A few more days, at least. Mr. Galavan asked for an extension of one piece, he re-did the design in the middle of my work... I have to alter the dress completely.”

“Why not just make a new one?” Theo questioned as he stepped into the room. “After all, this one does look nice. We could use it for another occasion.” 

“Uh, it would require more time, more money... More fabric.” The tailor stated. You think his name is Fredrick, several names had been muttered towards the man that day. That was the one he seemed to actually respond to. Every buddy in the penthouse had a name for him. “Maggot” or “rat” or vulgarities of different types. 

“All of which I have.” Theo replied. “I don't see why you haven't gone on with it, yet.”

“Right, of course. My dear, if you would, please step down and go behind the divider.” He gestured to the black fold-out standing divider behind him. He held his hand out, helping you off the raised platform. You walked over to the divider, stepping behind it. You began reaching around your back to grab the zipper before you got an idea.

“Jerome?” You asked quietly, dropping your hands from your back. “Can you unzip me?” You silently thanked that Theo had decided on a zipper for this dress rather than the clasps he was considering. 

You heard a dark chuckle and a padding of feet before Jerome appeared behind you. His left hand took the left side of your dress tightly, securing it in his grip. His right hand moved to the zipper, tugging it down slowly. It was effortless, to say the least. His long fingers slowly trailed down your back, sending chills up your spine.

You visibly shivered which caused Jerome to smirk maliciously. When he had finished with the zipper, the dress slipped off and scattered at your feet, bunching up. Frederick would hate that. You turned slowly, Jerome's hands still up thus causing them to trail over your ribs before dropping to your hips. It tickled. 

“I hope the new dress looks nice.” You sighed softly, glancing down at his hands. One of them came up to rest his index finger beneath your chin as his thumb flicked over your chin. “What?”

“It will. It'll be just as gorgeous as you, baby doll.” He told you, still smirking. It was wiped off his face when his hand dropped to your neck. Suddenly, a familiar panic settled in your stomach, but you welcomed it. 

He lips pressed to yours in a harsh, violent and rough form of a kiss. It could barely be called that. His lips crushed against yours but then he was busy at work _biting_ and _sucking_ on your lip. Jerome slowly backed you against the wall. Your head hit it first, softly, though. Then your shoulders then your bottom, your back going flat against it.

Jerome's lips were painfully pressing against yours, but it was good. When his teeth accidentally mashed against yours, you didn't care. 

His lips were sweet. Sweet, and full. Bright red when he pulled away. The hand around your neck was squeezing now, beginning a choke. His other hand slipped down your body, after all, you were only in a bra and your underwear. 

You let out a quiet moan as you shivered from his cold hands. He was multitasking. One hand slipping into your panties as the other was occupying a hold around your throat. His lips, teeth and tongue were working to create marks, unlike the bruises on your neck. The new marks he was creating were going to be misshaped and angry colors as they scattered across your shoulders and collarbones.

You felt his index finger brush your clit and you moaned a bit louder as he began circling the sensitive bud. He used his knees to spread your legs more, keeping them apart by placing one leg in between yours. Two of Jerome's fingers slipped inside of you, spreading your welcoming walls with his long fingers. You moaned, one hand moving up to gently grip his bicep. 

“Be quiet, baby doll. The tailor's still here.” Jerome whispered, choking your neck more to restrict your breathing. This way, you wouldn't be able to make a sound. You only squeaked softly as Jerome's fingers stroked you quickly, his thumb working on your clit. You wanted him to go faster, you really did, you were so close. You couldn't even believe this was happening, the thing in your mind, the thing that justified you liking him was getting much, much closer now. 

“Jerome-” You choked out, his grip tight as his fingers worked you. Your eyes met him and that wicked, malicious grin was still on his face. The grin flowed to his eyes, too. They had the same intent. “I'm going to – I need-”

“I know, gorgeous.” He whispered, curling his fingers and sweeping that _one_ spot that absolutely was bringing you over the edge.

“Jerome!” You heard a door open and suddenly, Jerome was working you faster, harder, _better_. You came, clenching and breathing heavy even as he choked you. His fingers slipped out of you and his hold on your neck stilled.

He wasn't squeezing now. You looked into his eyes, they appeared to be looking at you tenderly. His hand slipped from your neck and he licked his fingers in the most obscene way possible before parading out to greet the voice. You took a few deep breaths before picking up the dress.

“Frederick?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“I'm going to sling the old dress over the divider.” You told him softly, your voice cracking slightly. You didn't hear his reply, but you placed the dress over anyway and he pulled it across. He put a silk black robe in its place. “Thank you, Frederick.”

“You're welcome, my dear.”

You had a feeling you were both slaves to Theo's plights, and ultimately, Jerome's. You glanced at the wall as you put on the robe, the fabric smooth and cold against your skin. You wondered what had happened to Annie, you wondered if that was Jerome's idea of comfort; his hand stilling around your neck. You wondered what would happen at the gala, to the people possibly attending, to Jerome... to you.

You sighed as you tied the robe, walking out. No Jerome or Theo met your gaze. Nor Barbara, or for that matter, any of Theo's little toys. You only saw Frederick put the old dress on a headless dress mannequin. 

“Frederick?”

“Yes?” He asked, turning around to look at you. His graying hair was sticking up in a few places. He had probably run his fingers through it, nearly ripping it out from stress. 

“Is it alright if I call you Freddie?”

Frederick continued to look at you. His eyes cast down to the bruises on your neck and then his eyes went back to your eyes. He smiled faintly. “My step-daughter use to call me that.”

“I didn't now you had a daughter.” You told him, he nodded slowly. 

“Mr. Galavan...” He trailed off. “You can call me Freddie.”

“Thank you.”

“Pardon me for asking, my dear... I don't know, though. What's your name?”

“[Y/F/N] [Y/L/N].” You told him softly.

“It's a pleasure to meet you [Y/N].”

You stared at him. “What's your last name?”

“Gerard.”

“Freddie Gerard.” You muttered, nodding slightly. “I like it.”

Frederick laughed, for the first time since you'd spent time with him. “Good... [Y/N],” He began. He stepped closer to you, taking your hands in his. His eyes and voice sincere when he spoke. “I will get you out of this, out of here.”

You felt a strong wave of emotion. _I'm not sure if I want to leave._ Your head was bouncing around that sentence.

“And I you, Freddie.”

Frederick smiled sadly, nodding an unspoken gratitude. His hands slipped from yours as he went back to work. “You may sit and watch me work, if you'd like. Mr. Galavan sent his band of monkeys left to run an errand.”

“Thank you.” You said, smiling a bit as you sat down stiffly in the chair Jerome had been sitting you. Somewhere along watching him, you fell alseep. He didn't disturb you. He figured you needed it more than him.


	9. lust and malice and shark-like.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You probably shouldn't have said anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is nearly nine hundred words. It's shorter than what I usually write, but whatever. Here, have this sexual chapter. I was listening to a lot of Melanie Martinez (my sweet child) today and Teddy Bear reminds me of Jerome a SHIT TON. 
> 
> "You were comforting and quiet, how did love become so violent?" and "Everything was so sweet until you tried to kill me." fit him so well??? I cry ????
> 
> So does Play Date? Just ??? Think about it ???

Jerome looked at you in some way, some way you didn't like. After he had finger-fucked you with Frederick a couple yards away, something had changed. He was more distant. When he looked at you, it wasn't dead-on stare of lust and malice nor was it with a shark-like smirk lacing his lips. No, he'd glance at you and frown – he was clearly ignoring you. Any advance towards him that you made, he'd dismiss. 

You asked him about it just before you settled into bed. You were leaning over the bed slightly, adjusting the covers nervously. Jerome was behind you, filling the door frame with his vicious presence. He was waiting for you to lie down. 

“Why are you ignoring me?” You questioned, not willing to face him. You didn't hear anything. You half-expected him to leave without saying a word, slamming the door shut behind him in the process. The other half expected him to grab your arm, turn you around and grab your neck. You expected him to slam you against the wall and choke you while leaving bruises like kisses across your skin with his fingers buried inside of you. 

You didn't hear him, you didn't hear anything. You felt a chill snake up your spine. 

“What makes you think I'm ignoring you?”

He sounded almost hurt, but nonetheless unsurprised at the question.

“You won't look at me, you won't talk to me...” You trailed off. You heard the creak of steps, then the door quietly began closing. You glanced over your shoulder for a moment, thinking he had left when you saw his back to you, closing the door with a gentle 'click'. You snapped your head back around, going to lie down, hoping to avoid anything further before his right arm swung around your waist.

You didn't make a sound as he pulled you against him, you knew better than to do that. His right arm was wound so tightly around your waist, you shifted slightly to adjust yourself to the tightness. He loosened a little as he dropped his chin onto your shoulder, whispering in your ear as his left hand found your hip.

“You think I don't care about you, then?” Jerome asked, his voice low. “You think I'm ignoring you because I don't _care?_ ” 

Now this sounded like an accusation. He bent you at the waist slightly, your arms instinctively going out to steady yourself by pressing them to the bed. You didn't say anything.

“Answer me!” He shouted in your ear. You shook your head quickly, flinching away from him. 

“No. No – I don't.” 

“Don't what?”

“I don't think you're ignoring me.” You knew this was gonna bite you in the ass. “I just... You're not paying attention to me like you were before.”

The hand that was on your hip was squeezing it tighter, no doubt bruises were to be left. 

“You want more attention, then? Huh?” Jerome hissed, letting go of your waist to bring his other hand up to your hip. He pushed you down a bit more onto the bed, putting you into a slightly compromising position. He pressed himself even closer to you, and you felt his erection. You were a little surprised, you didn't understand how this was at all stimulating, but then again, he was in a position of power... It's what he lived for.

“Jerome-”

“Quiet, gorgeous. Someone's gonna hear.” Jerome whispered, bucking his hips against you. You let out a moan at the friction. He did this a couple more times, grinding himself against you. He leaned down, pressing the entirety of his front to your back, slowly thrusting against your clothed core. Jerome moaned hotly in your ear, working you up more than you needed. 

He was teasing you, he was doing this to get you to stop thinking the things you did. You felt one of his hands move to slip onto your back, slowly slipping under your shirt. His fingers danced across untouched flesh before brushing against scarred words. 

“What are you?” He asked you, slowing his movements. 

“Property of Jerome Valeska.” You told him, breathing in deeply as you told him this. Suddenly, there was a knock and Jerome stopped, moving away from you. You let out a groan and he told you to be quiet. 

“What?” He snapped.

“Let her sleep, Jerome.” You heard Theo say from the other side. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. “Annie and her have their dresses to try on tomorrow.”

You froze as you heard this. _She's alive?_ Jerome yanked open the door, flicking off the light with a mutter of 'goodnight'. He slammed it shut, bolting it on the other side. You crawled into bed, pulling the blankets over yourself. 

_If she was alive, perhaps you'd see her at the gala... You doubted that Theo would put you two in the same room together._


	10. dolls.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people wake up from their nightmares, sometimes you can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is TRIPPY and WEIRD and I was listening to a lot of Melanie Martinez while writing this because every damn song its Jerome ?????????????????????? 
> 
> Warnings: death, graphic violence, death mentions, abuse mention (? depends on what you think of as abuse tbh ?), weird dolls feat. your family (i gave you family members idk if you have them or not) also nightmares, wacky things, scene changing quickly, young jerome (what a cutie) and a whole bunch of other shit BASICALLY a lot of weird stuff happens.
> 
> P.S: Listen to Dollhouse, Teddy Bear and Sippy-Cup while reading this, or just the first two. Melanie Martinez is my sweet child. Do this for her.  
> P.S.S: ANY MISTAKES/TYPOS/SPACING ERRORS WILL BE FIXED.

When you woke up, Barbara was sitting at the end of your bed and you screamed, clearly startled. She launched forward and covered your mouth with her right hand, pressing the index finger of her left hand to her lips.

“Quiet, sweetie.” She whispered. She had a grin on her face, it made you uncomfortable. (Yet, Jerome's shark one didn't.) “I didn't mean to startle you.”

You stared at her with wide eyes, breathing heavy beneath her hand. 

“I'm gonna move my hand, don't scream, alright?” Barbara asked. Her voice sounded stern, in a way. Like a mother scolding a child. You nodded slowly, limply almost. Barbara dropped her hand and smiled wide. “Good girl.”

You frowned. The praise didn't sound right coming from her. “Why are you here?”

“To wake you, silly.” She giggled, pressing her elbows to her knees as she rested her chin in her hands. “Gotta give you a makeover, honey.”

“Why?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?” Barbara snapped. You didn't reply as she stood, prancing over to the black vanity that hadn't been there before. 

You watched her gather things, probably aligning them in the order she'd use them. You watched her ruffle the shirt she was wearing, open a couple things, grab a brush and put it between her teeth. She then turned to a dress hanging on the hook on the back of the door. It looked short, not black like the own Freddie had been making for you, and it was definitely not meant to look elegant. 

It looked like a doll's dress.

You swallowed as Barbara turned to you, sticking her hand out and motioning for you to get up. You slid out of bed, taking her hand. She led you to the vanity's stool and sat you down, making sure your back was to the mirror. 

“Ready?” She giggled. “Oh, you're gonna look so cute when I'm done! Now, close your eyes.”

When she started, it felt alright. But there was a slight tug of skin at one point and you hissed. Your eyes were clamped shut. Smear here, smear there – smear across your lips. You felt like your skin was being absolutely _caked_ in whatever makeup she was using. You felt a slight dust rise to your nose and you sneezed.

“Sorry, the powder clouded up.” You just kept your eyes closed and mouth shut as she worked. You just wanted to go back to sleep, you felt tired. You heard a small click and things being shoved into something. “Open your eyes.”

You did, but she didn't let you look at the mirror yet. Instead, she made you put on the dress. Bottoms and top dropped as she stared, handing you the dress. You slipped into it and it felt constricting, like you couldn't breathe. It had a flat, white velvet collar and Barbara zipped up the back as you pulled the bottom down slightly. She took a giant piece of ribbon off the vanity and tucked it under your hair, bringing it up behind your ears and around your head before tying a giant bow at the top of your head.

She had you put on bright, white knees high socks and black, shiny flats. 

“Alright, ready?” Barbara questioned. You nodded and she turned you, allowing you to look in the mirror.

“I look like a...”

“Doll? I know.” Giggles littered the air as she smoothed her hands over your shoulders. 

Your skin was absolutely flawless and the dress was short, pastel green and the bow in your hair was the same color – save for the white polka dots. You were clearly confused. Barbara took your hand and guided you from the room. The hallways looked different. The wallpaper was darker and grimy and peeling and – you couldn't breathe. 

Something weird was happening. This wasn't right. This wasn't the penthouse. You swallowed harshly, looking for something familiar in the hall that seemed to go on forever. When you turned around it was dark, like a wave was hitting the walls and floor and taking up the space you had just walked through. You didn't feel a hand tugging you forward anymore. You turned your head back around and Barbara wasn't there. 

You heard a whisper followed by some scratching. You whipped your head around, your flats keeping you weirdly grounded as you began to shake. 

“Hello?” You called. “Barbara?” 

You heard it again, this time louder. You started backing up, your body was moving towards where Barbara wanted you to go. “Jerome?” You shouted, hoping to see the devilish redhead appear and lead you to the proper place.

You got nothing and you whipped back around, seeing a towering shadow and you screamed. The blackness of it was reaching for you with claws of darkness and deep laughs were echoing on the walls as you ran the other way. The bright red smear felt weird as you licked your lips, trying to keep them wet as you ran – the wind kicking at you was drying them.

Wait – wind? In a hallway?

Your skin felt cold and you looked up. There wasn't a roof, but it was white outside... it was snowing. You glanced behind you, still running and the shadow wasn't there. You smacked into something as you went to turn back around.

You fell onto your back, one hand shooting up to hold your head. “What the hell?” You whispered, gathering your vision before looking up. The sight before you was... horrifying. Your family was strung up, thin pieces of some sort of rope was wrapped firmly around their wrists, ankles and necks.

You wanted to throw up when you noticed they were missing their eyes. You licked your lips again, unable to process this – the lipstick tasted weird and then you got it... it wasn't lipstick. It was blood. Barbara had put blood on your lips. You brought your hand up and smeared it off, the blood staining your wrist and suddenly it stained your whole dress and you heard a voice.

“Oh, now that's a shame. Blood all over your dress, whose is it?”

You found the courage to speak. “I don't know.”

“Is it mine?” The voice sounded like it was changing pitches and location with each syllable. “Is it theirs?”

“I don't know!” You called back. 

A cackle echoed the halls. “Perhaps it's yours.”

You looked down at the dress, clouds of crimson were appearing all over. “Is it?” You shouted.

“Is it?” They mocked, repeating your words effortlessly in your voice. You looked everywhere for the voice, looking straight ahead once more to see someone pushing the bodies aside to step forward. They were wearing jeans, a t-shirt, sneakers... they were you. “Is it yours?”

You stared at her – at _you._

“Who are you?”

“I'm you.” The grin on her face was ridiculous. “Y'know what these are?” She asked, gesturing to your family. 

“Puppets.” You whispered. The rope was string. They looked limp, all dolled up – very similarly to you. “They're puppets.”

“Smart.” The other you said, pointing an index finger at you. “But who's the puppet master?” You didn't reply. She stepped closer, extending an arm as she offered you her left hand. “Get up.” She said gently.

You took her hand and got up. You were helping yourself up, basically. 

“What is this?”

“What do you think?” She questioned, pulling you to her side as you both began to walk. You pushed aside your family, more puppets of past friends and current friends lined the halls. “It's your life.”

“Is this some weird rabbit-hole trip?”

The frown on her face nearly spoke for itself. “This isn't Wonderland, and you're not Alice.” 

You glanced at her. “How so? Jerome's the Hatter. He's mad and he's weird and-”

The grin on her face returned. “See, I knew you were smart.” You started seeing memories on strings instead of people. 

You two walked for what felt like hours, miles... your legs hurt and you came upon an empty portion of the hallway. 

“These are not good people.” She said suddenly. “Jerome, Barbara, Theo. All of them, the rest of the nutcases in this peanut gallery, they're not good people.”

“I know.”

“Then why the hell are you trying to get Jerome to bone you?” She snapped. You didn't reply as she guided you to the window that was there just as everything else was; suddenly and quietly. 

You looked out and saw all of Gotham, then it changed. It was just outside Theo's penthouse. You gasped as you looked down. There were cops everywhere, search dogs, police cars – they were passing the building easily.

“I'm up here!” You said, slamming the window with your hand. “I'm up here! Help! Please!” You screamed down at them, the words bouncing back at you as you pounded your fist against the window. 

“They can't hear you.”

She was right. The dogs sniffed the building but didn't give it a second glance besides. The cops didn't even look up. You saw Detective Gordon and your throat felt hoarse. Your eyes felt wet as you saw him talking to your parents. Your mom was sobbing into your father's shoulder as he held back tears.

“No. They don't think I'm...” You trailed off. “They do, don't they?”

“As far as they're concerned, and the police force, you are. You look like you vanished.”

“I was in a fucking convenience store shoot-out!” You screamed at her, at yourself. “Why aren't they looking harder! They have to know who took me!”

“They do.” The sigh was heavy. “They don't care. They found bloody clothing, your clothing...”

“My body, though! This is my body, they haven't found me yet!”

“Gordon wants to, he does, so does his partner – Harvey. They can't, though. It's not that easy.” 

You glanced to your right, seeing her standing there. She was staring out at the city as you had been. You turned back to look, seeing the buildings, the smog, the police lights, the people. You heard the lights and the chatter and you felt an overwhelming feeling to lay down and cry. 

You didn't even lay down, you just cried. “They're never gonna find me, are they?”

“Gordon's going to be at the gala.”

“What? How do you know?” You sobbed. “You're me.”

“I'm your subconscious, dumbass. I hear things that Theo says. Besides, wherever that fucker goes Gordon follows. He's like a little lamb. He tries to pin shit on him hourly.” 

You wiped at your eyes, the mascara and liner Barbara had put on them was dripping now. You continued to watch, taking a deep breath even though your lungs still felt constricted.

“What do I do?” You whispered. Upon no reply, you turned to your right. She wasn't there anymore.

You walked down the hall, hoping to find her. You found windows instead. You looked out one, seeing your mom sobbing. You went to the other near it, seeing your father holding a flashlight. He was searching an alley as a junkie came up behind him. You whispered some curse as you father was grabbed and stabbed, the scream that followed your curse was swallowed up by the shadows.

You went to another, seeing your older sister being drowned in water somewhere. You screamed again, covering your mouth with your hand as you raced to another window. Your little brother was sitting in front of the television. It was dark around him, the light hitting his face effortlessly. 

The artificial light made the tears in his eyes sparkle. You felt like you were choking as you ran to another window. A family portrait was staring at you. Each dead member – your sister, and father – was crossed out with a large red 'X'. You saw two more go over your mother and brother and you were left there, alone.

You went to other windows, seeing your beloved family dying and you let out a shriek. The windows went dark and the hallway went darker. 

“Hello?” Echoed down the hall.

“Who is it?” You shot back. 

“Hello?” It was getting closer. “Hello?” You backed up. “Hello!?” It sounded foreign and you frowned. 

The voice sounded like one belonging to a little boy, it definitely wasn't your brother. You squinted, trying to make out a face in the darkness. 

“Hello? Mommy!” 

You stepped forward, wiping your eyes again. You clenched your jaw and the freezing cold stopped.

“Mommy? Where are you?” 

A little boy approached and you watched him. You felt the blood still in your dress but it didn't feel weird. Maybe it wasn't yours. The little boy stopped in front of you and he had the brightest green eyes you'd ever seen. They had a blue tint to them and you cleared your throat.

“You okay, honey?”

“I can't find my mommy.” Came the reply, his skin pale and his eyes scared. You looked at him a little closer. He had freckles and you swallowed. “Can you help me?”

“Answer me something first, if you don't mind?”

“Sure.” He grinned. (It was too innocent, but still familiar.) “What is it?”

“Why are you all bundled up?” The heavy coat, mittens and hat on his head were obvious indicators. As was the scarf around his neck. His hat was lopsided. “Is the weather cold?”

“Yeah.” He replied, his voice high-pitched. “It's snowing outside.”

You nodded slowly, bending down a little. “Mind if I adjust your hat?” You asked.

“Go ahead, I can't do it right – not like mommy can.”

“Right.” You muttered. You tugged the black fabric off his head and gasped. Hair that was bright red greeted you and you nearly screamed. “Oh, no.” You whispered. 

“What's wrong?” He asked. “Is my hair too messy? Oh, mommy won't like that! She likes me looking my best.” He frowned.

“No, honey. Your hair is fine.” You told him. You smoothed it back and your lip quivered as you put the hat back on his head. You pulled it over his ears and halfway down his forward. “How's that?”

“Like how mommy does it!” He said excitedly. “Can we go find my mommy now?”

You nodded, you didn't speak. You took his hand and walked with him. You felt a little safer – somehow – walking with this little kid. Your chest still felt tighter as you approached a trailer. You opened the door and walked in, a woman was passed out on the couch-like item.

The little boy pulled his hand from yours and ran to her. “Mom, please wake up!” The voice changed and the little boy got a little taller, his shoulders broadening. The setting changed and you frowned, your lips moving closer together. The woman had a sheet around her and she was breathing slowly as a man moved away from her, disappearing into an abyss of darkness. 

The boy's hair was brighter, somehow, and he sighed as he stepped away from her. The setting had changed and you stepped back as he passed you. 

“Mom, just wake up!” He shouted. He changed again and the woman was once more wrapped in a sheet, but she was amongst hay bales and blood was on it. “Whore.” He whispered, stepping away from her. Everything went black again and there were quick and quiet footsteps approaching. The little boy returned, looking up at you with excited eyes.

He had money in his hand and a grin on his face. “Can we get cotton candy?”

“Where?” You asked, having him grab your hand and tug you along. You saw the space around you light up, circus music playing loudly in your ears as people laughed and tried out the games. The little boy stood on his toes as you reached the food counter. 

“One cotton candy, please!” He asked politely. You saw him slide the money onto the counter and you smiled a little. The woman who took it was... was you, again. 

“Blue or pink, kiddo? We have purple, too.”

“Blue!” He grinned excitedly, the woman nodding. She took the money and moved away from him, placing it into the box she had before going to the cotton candy machine. He turned to you. “I like the way it turns my tongue blue. It looks funny.”

“Sure does.” You whispered, watching the woman hand the cone of blue fluff over the counter. 

“You need to wake up.” She said to you, watching you walk with an angry look in her eyes. “You need to do it, right now. You'll get absolutely nowhere if you don't.”

You were tugged along by the boy as he ate the candy floss. You looked around, mainly for a way to get out of this place. You saw yourself again.

“Wake up!” They hissed at you, each booth you pass had you in it, saying the same thing. You frowned and walked faster, taking the little boy with you til you reached a large tent. Sad music was playing in it. You walked in, no ticket needed, and walked to the front. A giant monitor was in the middle. You were on it, Jerome craving words into your back.

The sight made you gag and step back. You ran from the tent, little boy in tow, and went to another. Some weird music was playing, thumping music. You walked to the front once more and were greeted by the same monitor, except on this one, it was different.

Jerome was on top of you, hand around your throat with the other over your mouth as he pounded into you. His hair was a mess and so was yours. Your wrists were pressed together, tied with what looked like his belt. Your hands were gripping the wrist belonging to the hand around your throat. The ecstasy on your face was clear and you gasped at the sight.

Jerome was panting, curses leaking from his lips as he loomed over you. Bare, broad shoulders tightening and loosening with each thrusts as his hips jerked and you writhed beneath him. He had that shark-like look on his face and you clenched your thighs together.

Your thighs clenched together at the sight. You went to cover the little boy's eyes, unsure of how much he'd seen. However, instead of pressing against a forehead and a pair of eyes to cover, you pressed against a toned stomach. You glanced behind yourself. You knew the little boy was him, you knew it, but that didn't stop you. Jerome was staring at the screen, a gray v-neck on his form. He was wearing jeans and boots, a leather jacket clenched in his grip. He brought a hand up and smoothed back his hair, one little stray piece avoiding the other neat ones. It fell against his forehead.

“You look so fuckin' pretty on your back, gorgeous.” He said easily, still watching the screen.

You heard a loud groan from the monitor and muffled scream beneath his hand – you assumed you reached climax, from the sound. Jerome turned to look at you and in one fluid motion, grabbed your wrist with his free hand and pushed it away, dropping his jacket to wrap his other hand around your neck and walk you backwards. Your back hit a wall instead of chairs and the setting changed.

You were in an alley. You appeared behind his shoulder. Well, yes, you but not you. You were currently pressed against a brick wall. Other you. You were still in the pastel green dress, or so you thought. You looked down, a t-shirt and jeans on your form. Your feet were bare though. You were standing on some glass. This alley looked familiar. 

“You need to wake up!” Other you said. “Wake up!”

Your eyes found Jerome's and he tilted his head.

“Hiya, gorgeous.” He whispered. 

Heavy breaths emerged from you. “Wake up!” Other you screamed.

“Miss me?” Jerome asked, choking you harder. Your vision was going black. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't see. 

“Wake up!” Other you snapped as Jerome pulled your head forward and slammed your neck against the brick. You screamed, you screamed so loudly that he backed off. “Wake the fuck up!” Other you screamed. It echoed off the alley walls, mixing with your scream. Jerome covered his ears, other you tearing at his shoulders; pulling him from you.

“Don't take him! You can't!” You cried, screaming, gasping for air. 

“Then wake up!” She screamed. You were shaking violently – not by your choice, by another's.

Your eyes snapped open and you were in your room, in the penthouse. Barbara was sitting on your bed, shaking you. The door was shut behind her and then suddenly it wasn't. It flew open and Jerome filled the door way, one hand shooting out to block the door from hitting him as it bounced off the wall.

“Get the fuck out.” He snarled and Barbara was gone. You were hyperventilating and clutching your throat and crying and you scrambled off the bed as he approached. You fell weirdly and ended of smacking your head on the end table, yelping as your head hit the ground shortly following.

That's when your vision tip-toed away and the darkness creeped in, shadowing you. You heard a muffled voice and blurred faces and you felt like you were being picked up – one arm under the backs of your legs and the other behind your back – and you stopped moving.

You were awake. That's what mattered. Out of the previous nightmare and back to the current one.


	11. scary, isn't it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little insight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes! Got my new laptop charging cable today! Everything's good! This chapter is just some insight, some feelings and a little look back at past events. I actually gave myself a small little panic attack? What the shit?

Jerome was cruel. He knew that. He knew he was vicious and dangerous and absolutely off the fucking wall by any and all means that related to standard. 

Maybe that was an excuse.

Calling someone crazy makes things a lot less scarier. If you label them, call them some medical term – insane, for instance – then it makes their actions less intimidating by a little bit. But what if they're not insane? That's terrifying and horrible and that gives people crippling anxiety.

Because if someone kills people and hurts people for the _fun_ of it, it's a whole lot scarier than a label could ever make them. 

You could see it. You knew that from the moment you saw him in that convenience store. 

The wheels were turning in that pretty little redhead and his eyes showed it. 

Oh, God, you should've just left – offered to help that old woman in the pink cardigan with her things. She might've been able to save you from the cruel and vicious ways of Jerome Valeska.

No one could now, not really. Not even yourself. 

He lusted for you. Perhaps, more on the path of sexual nature or whatever – but more than likely for the blood in your veins. He wanted to see it split, but by his own hands. Oh no, if anyone else touched you, they'd die if they cut you or bruised you or hurt you.

'Cause you're Jerome's little toy. His little dolly for him to break and bend and _fuck up._

You're _Property of Jerome Valeska._

Scary, isn't it?

Always a crushing feeling on your chest. Always another issue, another problem, another scare... 

_Is he upset? Did I upset him? Is he gonna hurt me? Is he gonna hurt someone else?_

You just wanted to go back to your apartment. To your dingy space and less than half-emptied boxes. You wanted to go back to bad television reception and even worse phone reception.

You just wanted to go back.

But you wanted to stay with him, too. 

Even if he hurt you, broke you, bent you and scared you, he still managed to make you feel nice. He managed to treat you well and with respect and some odd sense of the word... _love._

But love isn't getting slapped or tortured. Love isn't getting words carved into your back or getting your ankle stomped on or your hair yanked painfully back while loaded threats were whispered into your ear. Love isn't getting kidnapped or potentially assaulted by his "buddy" or partner in crime, whatever.

Love is roses and kisses and nice things and chocolate, cuddles and warmth and happiness even in the worst times because your significant other is _there_ beside you where they belong.

Well, that's what it was to your parents, or at least you thought. 

_Love bites,_ is what you settled on. _Love bites and sucks and drains the life out of you til you're nothing more than a shriveled corpse – a projection of what you used to be. A simple silhouette of pain and suffering._

Yeah, that sounds right.

But it isn't. 

Jerome didn't care what you thought, he honestly didn't. Not really, no matter how much he might have tried to prove it. 

He was cruel and abusive and angry at all the wrong people. 

Theo let him be.

It was like you were a pet. 

If Theo offered all the steak you could eat and if he bought all the chocolate milk in the world, Jerome could feed his little _pet._

He could keep her somewhat healthy to withstand his games and torture, to make sure she could nod and smile. 

It all came with a price.

New dresses. 

Standing for hours.

Pain. 

Overwhelming _pain._

Always looking over your shoulder to make sure he wasn't there to see you relax, to let down your guard. To see you vulnerable – because that's when a wolf makes it's kill. When a little lamb is unprotected and vulnerable. 

He still supports you, like I said. He keeps you safe as long as he can cause you pain.

After all, what's a little love without a little support? 

_Absolutely nothing._


	12. screwed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The realization sets in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... i know it's been ALMOST five months?? but i can explain? i mean i legit shouldn't have to but i feel like i kinda owe it to those still reading this?
> 
> i have JACK inspiration for this story. i wanted to finish it BEFORE the new season came out so i could take a break and get things sorted. i wanted to end it nicely, but i have to get the fckin gala outta the way and the reader readjusting and being rescued and shit. (i also plan on skipping over theo's [fckin azazel? wtf?] new little story cause that's a shitshow in and of itself.] ANYWAY the second i can i will fulfil those tags and finish this then take a short break. im hoping i can crank these out like i originally meant to and... if not, sorry?
> 
> p.s; this chapter is short but jerome gettin aggressive with making out is in it so

You were sitting upright in one of the loungers, an on-call doctor examining you.

"Other than a small bruise on her scalp and a little dizziness, she seems alright." He said -- Thomas, you remembered suddenly; Doctor Thomas. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

You glanced at Theo and then to Barbara before your eyes settled on Jerome. His arms were crossed as he breathed evenly before answering, his eyes narrow and his tongue sharp.

"She fell." He stated simply. "Not a big deal, doc."

Doctor Thomas gave you a small smile before nodding. "Alright, well... If that's all, I should be going. I have a few older patients to tend to, ones that can't leave their homes."

"Thank you for getting here in the timely fashion you did." Theo grinned, his tone easy and faux-grateful. "What with the gala I have coming up, I'd hate if my _niece_ were to have been too ill to attend."

You frowned as Theo stepped across the room to gently lay a hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch as he pushed down on your shoulder harshly to force the common repulsive action away. You looked up at him and he looked down at you. 

"I look forward to seeing you there, Mr. Galavan." Thomas nodded curtly, his smile had broadened. "And you too, Miss-"

"Val." Theo said quickly, covering his ass as his brow furrowed only in the slightest. His smile was full and his tone was loaded with hidden meaning. "See you soon, Doctor."

Thomas was gone a few moments after.

"She's a little old to be your niece, Theo." Jerome said, his tone irritated by the quick lie. "And 'Val'?"

Theo chuckled. "It's the beginning of your last name, Jerome. I've been putting anything having to do with her as that name."

"Why's that?"

"She's your toy, is she not?" Barbara questioned. Jerome rolled his eyes at the jab, knowing full well Barbara wanted to “play” with you as well. "Thought so."

He watched her leave before Theo followed after, calling over his shoulder to the redheaded convict sharing his home. "Besides, they're not going to investigate a niece."

"Mm." Jerome muttered, glancing at you as he nibbled his lip. "How's your dress coming along, gorgeous?"

"Oh, uh..." Your eyes snapped up to meet his. "Okay, I think."

"Just okay?" Jerome replied. "I could talk to-"

"It's fine!" You said hurriedly, standing quickly. Any negative talk from Jerome meant intimidate or seriously injure. "Really, its a beautiful dress."

"Showtime's in three days. Remember that. You and your little friend are attending..."

"I know." You muttered.

"Theo said the place'll be crawling with cops." He sighed softly, sounding irritated at that.

"For protection or...?" You paused for a moment. “Are they looking for someone?”

"Both." Jerome shrugged. He then chuckled, but only for a moment as he stepped closer to you, his grin wide as he gently wound his hand into your hair and pressed the other to the lower portion of your neck. "Keeping people safe is hard work."

You nodded slowly. He jerked your hair back and bent your neck at an odd angle, causing you to cry out as he laughed.

"Gotta make the night big for the good folks o' Gotham city!" 

Jerome tilted your head a little more and rammed his lips against yours, sloppily pressing a kiss to your lips as his tongue pushed past them. You moaned softly at the feeling, the hand in your hair dropping to grope your ass and push you against him. Your hips pressing against his as he slowly grinded against you, causing you to let out a shameful whine as a light heat warmed your face. Your hands went to grab at his hair, one of them pulling and tugging it as his lips brutally pressed against yours; teeth clashing and tongues sliding slickly against each other. 

Just as you moaned into his mouth, his eyes wide open and watching you, he pulled back. A little dribble of spit rolled down your chin, your breath just as heavy as his. He chuckled softly before wiping the saliva away.

"You're gonna look so damn gorgeous in that dress." He told you before you dropped your hands from his hair, watching him walk with a bounce in his step, retreating to the hallway. The laughter that suddenly carried through the penthouse, the crazy and malicious sound sent chills dancing up and down your spine. You had to roll your shoulders a few times to ease your nerves. He shouted, then, his voice loud and raspy. "It's gonna be a grand old time! Gotham's gonna get a load of laughs!"

You wiped a hand across your lips to catch anymore stray spit, your lungs getting the air they needed before you flopped back down in the lounge chair.

"I'm screwed."


	13. radio silence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're looking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gotham is almost back and im almost done with this ???? im genuinely shocked lmao have fun

You were sitting on your bed, your arms wrapped firmly around your knees as your legs were pulled to your chest. You were wondering, blandly so, what to eat. You knew you didn't really get a choice. It was the same thing the entire time you'd been there.

Some variation of meat, some variation of potatoes, some veggie and chocolate milk.

You wondered if the milk was a joke, a jest at your inability to run, to get away from Jerome. You wondered if he did it on purpose, poking fun at your abduction, at the way he'd taken you.

You clearly thought he did, anger swelling in your chest.

By design, it was a joke. It was something to point and laugh at, clapping like a seal in an attempt to relieve yourself of the shuddering giggles it had caused.

You just sat there. You stared at the wall, your eyes watching the wallpaper. Maybe if you stared at it long enough, it would begin to peel straight off, maybe that's what would happen. 

_Do you want it to?_ You asked yourself. _Perhaps let this whole building peel itself apart, let its gnarled apprehension roll and tuck under itself as it fell, its gray oddities, much like the rest of Gotham, just... disappear._

You continued to stare. _Disappear like you did?_ You gave yourself a slow nod, your body tired. _Oh, yes, exactly like you did._

Your life here, if you could even call it that, was bitter. When you were young it was bitter.

Gotham is the home of criminals. Gotham is hell, it's tarnished and disgusting but like any city, it has its perks. That coffee shop near the library, the tours at the museum, the large intricate statues and the huge gates striking wonder at just what they were protecting. 

You'd been doing a lot of that, lately – wondering. It was painful. You could press your fingers to the small ship-like window in your room, feeling the constant cold air of Gotham invoke shivers upon the glass. There was frost there, too. You'd draw in it.

Sometimes “help” and sometimes “don't bother”. You wanted out, yes, but you also knew something within you, something for Jerome, was keeping you from getting yourself killed. You rolled the thoughts of breaking the window and taking a shard of glass to take your – no.

_Maybe open the window? Or, at least try?_

There was a pause as you uncoiled your arms, going to the window.

_It's probably reinforced, knowing Theo._

You gave a soft huff.

_But why? You likely wouldn't be able to fit through it. It is much too small for anyone, even a child._

Another second.

_Break it, then?_

You shook you head to yourself once more.

_Reinforced, remember?_

You sighed and stopped thinking for a moment, instead looking outside the eye-level window. “Looks cold, as always.” You heard talking from outside your room, the gentle hum of the radiator interrupting as it began rattling from turning itself back on to keep the temperature well-controlled. 

Your mind suddenly snapped to the horrible nightmare you previously had. You thought of your family, their bodies... hanging, with their faces stretched from gloom. You were scared to glance at the window, then, afraid if you did you'd see what you saw in your nightmare.

You grew sick, suddenly. Your throat tightening as your stomach felt like it was being punched, your eyes began to water and you bit it back.

_Don't cry. You'll be safe, you can try to bolt at the gala, find an empty room and a unlocked window and go out it... even if its too high, you'll be free of them._

“Death by jumping out a window? That's free?” You questioned softly. You heard a creak, a soft whine but you didn't register it as something.

 _From them, yes. From... from_ him. _Even if you don't die, though, a sprained ankle can still be walked on._

“Frantic escapes don't end well.”

“You plannin' on leaving?” You heard suddenly. You whipped around, seeing Jerome, although shorter than Theo managed to fill up the doorway yet again, his eyes watching you and his jaw tight as he didn't move. “How?”

“I-” You paused, choosing your words carefully as your eyes went big as saucers. “I'm not leaving, I'm just... thinking about something I saw in the newspaper.”

He didn't seem convinced.

“Barbara tucks it under the door.” You covered, your hand raising to point your index finger at the stack of newspapers sitting on the cheap pine desk Theo had put in there a few hours ago, saying something about a girl needing a place to collect her thoughts and sit peacefully. Jerome's eyes moved to glance at the newspapers there, the ones still intact and not the ones you'd been using as extra insulation. Jerome noticed the radio Theo had given you as well. “A child taken and killed for attempting to escape.”

“Boy?” He asked, his jaw loosening.

You stood there, waiting for a outburst as you spoke. “No, a girl.”

“Young?” He further pressed.

You breathed slowly. “Yeah.”

He stared at the papers for a moment, his bright eyes scanning the black, and white paper, but your eyes never left him. 

You learned to watch him; watch them. You always took count of who was in a room at any given time, making sure to keep your back to the wall and your eyes on them all as best you could with your two eyes. 

You learned to cope with the paranoia.

“Sad.” Jerome said, his eyes turning back to watch you. “She shouldn't have ran.”

“Maybe she was scared.” You said with complete conjecture.

He stared at you blankly, his eyes and tone _bored,_ with what you were saying. “Still.”

That made you angry. You decided to change the subject. “What time is it?”

“Afternoon, I think.” He told you, his body less intimidating and filling within the doorway than previously. “Do you need a book?”

You shook your head. “I'm okay.” You watched him leave without any other words and you rushed over to the newspapers.

You'd been looking for any articles about you, any about your family, about your friends... you were looking for a sign of hope. You hadn't been able to get through them because Theo kept having you try on your dress, making sure it looked proper, having it torn apart and redone in certain places til Freddie's fingertips bled.

His sewing machine broke, he had to redo it by hand.

You would cry softly at night as the gala approached, your heart racing with every creak you heard outside. 

But that didn't matter now, because you turned to page 16 in the newspaper from a week or so ago, one you overlooked when Barbara tucked it under your door three days ago, but you weren't overlooking it now.

Smack in the middle of that page, in big, bolded letters read:

_**MISSING PERSON: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WOMAN?** _

Your name, [Y/F/N] [Y/L/N], was pasted in slightly smaller letters just over a picture of you. The number to dial was the GCPD's emergency number and for any possible sightings, the non-emergency numbers were listed.

There was a much smaller one of you with your family in the bottom right corner of that picture with a message.

 _If you aren't sure, call the non-emergency number for a follow-up._

You let the newspaper fall from your hands and turned on the radio Theo had set on your desk, twisting the dial to the news channel. 

_“If you have seen this woman, this girl – our daughter – please notify someone immediately. Even if you aren't sure, please. We just want her safe, we want to know she's alright.”_ It was your mother's voice and you felt tears gathering in your eyes as you listened, your heart breaking and wrenching. _“If you know anything, just call! We... will be so grateful, please help us, help her! We just want our baby back.”_

You heard your mother begin saying that more before devolving into muffled sobs, likely hugging your father as she cried.

 _“Help us find her.”_ You heard your father say before the large and drawn out beep went over the air and you turned off the radio quickly.

People were rarely found in Gotham. You had a hope you would be.


End file.
